


missing out the cracks in the pavement (i ain't lost, just wandering)

by emullz



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, POV Octavia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 21:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6130675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emullz/pseuds/emullz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it had been eighteen years since clarke met bellamy, since her hands, still soft with youth, had tugged his curls to see if they would bounce. eighteen years since bellamy had shoved her and she’d landed not with a cry of pain but with one of fury. eighteen years since they came together in a beautiful explosion, wrapped themselves around each other until nobody could tell where clarke ended and bellamy began.</p><p>or, the one where bellamy and clarke are dumb and octavia is the only one who knows they're in love</p>
            </blockquote>





	missing out the cracks in the pavement (i ain't lost, just wandering)

**Author's Note:**

> hello, all. this is mostly unedited. i couldn't think of a title so i fell back onto adele's lovely classic hometown glory. i hope you like it.

It had been eighteen years since Clarke met Bellamy, since her hands, still soft with youth, had tugged his curls to see if they would bounce. Eighteen years since Bellamy had shoved her and she’d landed not with a cry of pain but with one of fury. Eighteen years since they came together in a beautiful explosion, wrapped themselves around each other until nobody could tell where Clarke ended and Bellamy began.

Except, Octavia mused, the fact that she had always been able to see right through their bullshit and into the heart of the problem. Which was always their immense stupidity in regards to their feelings, something she was always very careful to shout at both of them at any given moment. Her first word had, in fact, been “shtup,” a poor substitute for the “SHUT THE HELL UP” she’d wished to yell at the pair of them. 

“Shtup isn’t a word,” Bellamy always grumbled when she brought it up. “You said ‘Bell’ first.”

“Oh, shtup, you loser,” Octavia grumbled back, and then he was smiling in the way that meant he didn’t want to. “Your ego is off the charts.” 

And, when Clarke was still around, she laughed and ruffled Bellamy’s curls and Octavia pretended she didn’t notice the way that he leaned into her touch and the way her hand lingered on his shoulder long after the conversation had ended. Octavia pretended not to notice a lot of things, growing up, all of which had to do with the fact that Bellamy and Clarke had been in love with each other ever since they began battling for playground territory. 

\- -

The best moments of Octavia’s life had been populated by the shouts and curses and laughter of Bellamy and Clarke. Her hands in theirs as they pulled her to the top of the monkey bars, Clarke swiping Octavia’s lips with her first ever tube of lip gloss and the ensuing shouting match over whether or not she was too young for it, going around the block one more time to listen to the last minute of the song but then just driving in circles listening to everything and nothing, not wanting the drive to end. 

And there were the terrible moments, the time spent with Clarke’s head on her shoulder as they waited during her father’s final surgery, the night after Bellamy had given her mother’s eulogy, all three of them in Aurora’s bed, breathing in the scent of the pillow. The moment after Clarke had gone, after Bellamy had asked her not to. 

“Please stay,” Bellamy had asked, looking as thought the answer could kill him. 

“I don’t know what I am without you,” Clarke said, her voice breaking, and just like that the answer did its job. 

Octavia never got her goodbye, either. Just a broken brother and a broken promise, one made under a blanket fort when both of them were delirious with the idea of staying up so long. “Promise me,” Octavia had whispered, “that you’ll be just like Bellamy forever.” 

“I promise,” Clarke had responded, solemn, and while it wasn’t said, both of them knew what they really meant. Octavia hadn’t asked for them to always be friends, she’d asked for Clarke to be just like Bellamy because she never wanted her to leave. And, yet. 

\- -

No matter how hard Octavia tried to let go, growing up together wasn’t a thing that she could shake. So her brain tracked Clarke around the globe using the casual mentions from people around town and her tagged photos on Facebook. Clarke flew from city to city, fell in love and got her heart broken. Octavia did the same, just in a beat up car and with less getting her heart broken and more getting even. As much as Bellamy and Clarke had raised her to be a polite, upstanding citizen, they had never quite kicked her habit of holding grudges. Octavia liked it best that way. 

Bellamy just stayed. He pretended that wasn’t what he was doing by going to the community college and getting his teaching degree and settling down a stone’s throw from the town they’d all grown up in, but Octavia knew. She knew him enough to know that he was still keeping his promise, the one they’d buried in the woods the first time they’d ended up in different homerooms. 

“Everything is different now,” Clarke pouted, and the bottom of her lip stuck out in the way that meant she was about to try very hard not to cry. 

“It’s only different if we decide it’s different,” Bellamy reassured her, his arm slung around her shoulder. “If we promise that we stay, forever, and only change when we both decide, then we’ll be fine.” 

“How do I know you’re not lying?” There weren’t tear tracks on Clarke’s cheek, but Bellamy stuck his thumb under her eye anyways. 

“Cause I’m going to write it down, and we’re both going to swear on the paper. Then, we bury it. That’s what makes a promise.” 

Both of them had smiled, then, and carefully written out the terms of their agreement on the pink lined paper Clarke had gotten for Christmas. They both signed it, in the awkward script of adolescents, and then it went underground. 

Octavia watched from the window the whole time, and the next day while they were at soccer, she used the garden spade to dig it back up. “I promise to never change anything of importance without having a nice good talk and handshake about it, so that we can be friends until forever is over,” it read through the smudges of dirt. Octavia, who had more knowledge of what happened to buried things when it rained, stuck it in a ziplock bag and then reburied it. 

She thought about it often, and wondered how it was that Clarke seemed to thrive on broken promises. 

\- -

Clarke had always had terrible timing. Octavia could remember a million instances where the Blakes had run on what they called “Griffin Time,” setting all their clocks 5 minutes late so that Clarke was always there right when she was supposed to be. 

So it made perfect sense to Octavia when Clarke showed up in town just as Bellamy was beginning to forget, just when he was waking up in the morning and not thinking of her. Octavia had watched him get promoted at his job a couple of weeks ago and call Miller immediately, not even bothering to stare at Clarke’s number in his phone the way he always had before. 

She showed up on Octavia’s doorstep first. It was raining, and she looked pitiful, completely drenched and dripping. Octavia knew better, knew that Clarke never brought an umbrella everywhere because she loved the way the rain felt dripping down her ears and off her chin, but she let her inside anyways. 

“It’s been a while,” Octavia said cooly as she hung Clarke’s coat over the back of a kitchen chair. The water droplets plinked softly onto the linoleum floor. “Actually, no. Much longer than a while.” 

“I know,” Clarke replied, softer than Octavia ever remembered her speaking. She’d heard Clarke sing words, let them go on the bubble of a laugh, spit them like daggers. But never so soft, never so sad. Soft words were for the kind, and regardless of everything Clarke had given away, she’d never been kind. 

“Do you? You know exactly how long it’s been?” Octavia started folding the laundry she’d neglected, knowing from years of experience that Clarke hated when Octavia didn’t pay full attention to conversation. 

Clarke still stood in the doorway, her hands sitting awkwardly at her sides like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Four years, two months, seventeen days.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Octavia said, low. “It’s been an eternity. Life didn’t stop here when you left, Clarke.”

At the sound of her name, Clarke seemed to begin to inhabit her own body like Octavia remembered. “I need to see him,” she said, suddenly confident, her words perfectly formed with intent. 

“Why?” Octavia asked, without the intonation of a question. This sent Clarke reeling backwards, her eyes widening. “Don’t see him without a reason.” 

“I have a reason,” Clarke said, not even seeming to convince herself. Her words had gone soft again, and Octavia was struck with the sudden realization that as much as she had blamed Clarke for leaving, she’d never really wondered about the reason. Whatever it was, Octavia could hardly reconcile the Clarke that had walked everywhere with long, purposeful steps with this one, who hadn’t moved an inch since stepping in the door for fear she’d get lost on her way. 

“For seeing him, or for leaving?” All the ice that had accompanied Octavia’s words before had melted, was hitting the floor in time with the droplets that fell of the ends of Clarke’s hair. “You don’t have to tell me. I never asked for the truth.” 

“I want to,” Clarke said, practically pleading, but with who Octavia didn’t know. “I miss you. And I’m sorry. And I remember, everything.”

“That’s good,” Octavia said. “That’s a good start.” 

\- -

Octavia led Bellamy to Clarke the next morning, when the ground smelled like rain. She watched from her car as Bellamy and Clarke sat on top of the monkey bars, their legs swinging, as Clarke talked with her gaze fixed firmly on the ground, as Bellamy reached for her chin and tugged her eyes up to his. And then, just like that, he was wrenching open her car door and sliding into the passenger’s seat. 

Bellamy’s curls were damp with the humidity, and the condensation ran in rivulets down the passenger side window as he slammed the door behind him. “She said she was sorry,” he whispered, head in his hands. Unlike Clarke, the softness of his voice didn’t surprise Octavia. Her brother had always been kind. 

“She told me that, too.” 

“How do I do this, O?” Bellamy said, his voice hoarse. “It’s been four years, but it feels so easy.” 

“What do you mean?” Octavia probed carefully. When it came to Clarke, Octavia didn’t know her brother at all. 

“She left me! And I pretended I wasn’t angry for so long, I pretended I wasn’t- damn it! I’m so tired of acting like I’m fine, like she didn’t destroy me. Do you know what she said? She said that she left because she knew it would be okay, that she could come back and I would still be her best friend, because of some dumb fucking promise. And it would be so fucking easy to forgive her. It’s always been so easy to forgive her, but I can’t go through that again, O.” Bellamy’s hands were clenched into fists, his eyes filled with tears he’d never let fall. “How can you love someone you don’t trust?” 

“Second chances,” Octavia answered, her hand finding Bellamy’s and gripping, hard. “Do you remember when you stood Clarke up to take me to that movie? She pissed you off at school or something, and you wanted to blow off steam so you took me to go see Ice Age in theaters. And you were so mad you forgot that you’d promised Clarke you’d take her home after she finished with Student Council, so she waited outside of school until it got dark. And she didn’t tell anyone until her dad called to ask if she was at our house, because she was so sure that you’d be there.”

Bellamy sucked in a breath, his fingers tightening around Octavia’s. “She called me the next day, to see if I wanted her help baking apology cookies,” he finished. “And then she made me take both of you to see Ice Age again. Because she wanted to know if your sloth impression was really as accurate as you said.” 

The air in the car had grown thick with memories, and Octavia rolled down the window to let the outside air rush in and cool their cheeks. “Why did she leave?” Bellamy asked, plaintive, just the other side of a whisper. 

“I don’t know, Bell,” Octavia said, putting the key in the ignition and letting the shudder of the engine jolt her out of her nostalgia. “But you can always invite her over to bake apology cookies.”

They drove the rest of the way home in silence, Bellamy’s head against the window as they sped past their hometown, each street clogged with memories Bellamy had just began to allow back in. 

\- -

Bellamy ignored the idea of Clarke for a week until Octavia decided it was time for her to do something. She told herself that it was within her rights, that Bellamy and Clarke had been Bellamy and Clarke since before Octavia could stand up on her own, that she was doing this for her own sake as much as Bellamy’s. This was true, to a certain extent. Octavia couldn’t remember a single point in her childhood when Clarke hadn’t hovered around the background, making googly eyes or pulling at Bellamy’s hair. The picture she carried around in her wallet showed a ten year old Bellamy standing next to Octavia at four, both of them beaming into the camera. The butterfly facepaint that curled delicately around Octavia’s eyes had Clarke’s style, the turn of her wrist obvious in the way the wings seemed to leap off of Octavia’s face. Even when it was just the two of them, they couldn’t escape Clarke’s influence. 

But Clarke had always been more Bellamy’s than anyone’s, and Octavia was done pretending she thought it was better for her brother to get over his childhood. 

When the doorbell rang, Bellamy was in the middle of an episode of The Office and Octavia was pretending to watch next to him. He got up with a groan to open the door, poised to tell whoever was trying to sell him something to take a hike, when he cause a glimpse of her. Octavia knew that it hadn’t seemed real on the playground. It was like a scene from his mind, the place they’d met becoming the place he saw her again after so many years. But here, in his living room, Clarke became more solid. More like the new version of herself that both Octavia and Bellamy would have to get to know. 

“Octavia invited me over,” Clarke said tentatively. “She said you might have questions.” 

“You left me,” Bellamy said, his voice low and dangerous. “You left everyone.”

“That’s not a question,” Clarke replied, taking a step closer. Octavia tensed, because anyone else would’ve gotten a fist to the face. As much as Bellamy was kind, he didn’t take any shit. Unless, of course, it came from Clarke. 

“You know what I’m asking,” Bellamy said, teeth gritted. They were both still in the doorway of the house, framed by the scratched doorframe Bellamy had never gotten around to painting. 

“When we were little,” Clarke said, the tears already gathering behind her eyes, “when I fell over, you would bruise. And it only got worse, when we got older. When I did badly on a test and felt sick to my stomach, you would throw up. And then, when everything-“

The tears began to spill, and both Bellamy and Octavia looked shell shocked. They’d seen a lot of tears from Clarke over the years, but they always came when she was angry, or scared. Never like this, never sad and keening and desperate. 

“I couldn’t stay. I had to be someone else, and I knew that would change you too. I just- I couldn’t keep leaving my scars on your body.” 

Bellamy closed his eyes and let out a huff that Octavia just barely recognized as a laugh. “That’s a little egotistical, Princess.”

Clarke hiccuped her own laugh, swiping at her tears haphazardly. “Oh, really?” 

“Well, yeah. Just you wouldn’t be enough to do me in.” Bellamy looked over at Octavia, smirking, like he was wordlessly asking if she could believe what she was hearing. “Fuck, Clarke, it’s been four years and I’ve managed to accumulate enough scars on my own.”

Clarke reached forward with both of her hands, and Octavia wasn’t sure whether or not she knew she was doing it. Whichever it was, Bellamy didn’t appear to care when he grabbed them and pulled Clarke into his chest, pressing her face into his collarbone. The sigh Clarke let out was half disbelief, half complete and utter happiness. 

“You were always good at that,” Clarke muttered, and Bellamy pulled back, both his hands on Clarke’s shoulders with a ridiculous look on his face. 

“Good at what?” 

“Being stupid,” Clarke said, barely finishing her sentence before Bellamy pulled her back into the hug, Clarke’s fists gripping his T-shirt. “Getting yourself hurt.” 

“You owe me a lot of apology cookies,” Bellamy whispered, his lips pressing into Clarke’s hair, and Octavia knew it was time for her to go. Everything was, if not okay, then better. 

\- -

From that point on, Octavia could always find flour caught behind Bellamy’s ear, or a piece of eggshell resting on his cheek, the scent of cookies lingering after she’d pressed a kiss to his cheek. And, more often than not, wherever she would find Bellamy she’d find Clarke, both of them wrapped around each other as if to make up for lost time. 

Eighteen years later, when Octavia called just to say hello, Clarke answered Bellamy’s phone. “Hello Beautiful,” she crooned into the receiver. “Your brother is the little spoon and consequently cannot reach the phone.” 

“I’ll have you know,” Octavia heard Bellamy call out, “that being the little spoon is a totally respectable position!”

“I’ll call back later, you two,” Octavia said into the phone. In both Bellamy and Clarke’s chorused goodbyes, Octavia could hear the smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> wow ok. this was just that little piece i worked on when i couldn't find it in my to write anything else, and it was supposed to be like 40 words long, just to get all the metaphors out of my system but it turned into tooooo many words together and never actually saying what stuff looks like, just describing it in abstract terms and hoping for the best. it's mostly based on the moment when octavia leads bellamy to clarke in 3.05, bc i was like yes. this would be so good in a modern au. also i'm such a sucker for octavia pov, i can't even tell you. 
> 
> so, this was completely writers block driven and i needed to post something. here you go, i hope you enjoy. please leave kudos or comments so that i can geek out with you, or come hit me up on tumblr (emullz or officialbellarketrash bc i'm greedy and i have two). 
> 
> thank you for reading!!


End file.
